200 Next to the Ground 



The fifth day of captivity she turned the 

 caged bird out in the room. He had grown, 

 not tame but fearless, and at once flew all 

 about, investigating everything. There was 

 a pan of water upon the hearth a little way 

 from the chimney jamb. The bird flew down 

 to it, drank, balanced himself gingerly upon 

 the rim of it, stepped one foot over the edge, 

 then plunged in up to his neck, and began a 

 lively fluttering — all this less than six feet 

 from where Major Baker sat, making a pre- 

 tence of reading. His bath over, the cardinal 

 hopped out, shook himself vigorously, then 

 sailed up to the top of a tall secretary, perched 

 there and began to dress his feathers with the 

 utmost nicety. After a little, satisfied with 

 his coat, he hopped down upon the bureau, 

 and caught sight of his image in the glass. 

 His tormentor outside was invisible. At once 

 he jumped to the conclusion that the bird 

 in the glass was his enemy. Ruffling, with 

 fiercely lowered wings and a sibilant hiss, he 

 rushed at the mirror. The impact was so vio- 

 lent he was thrown backward several inches, 

 but in a breath he was again up and at it. 

 Twice, three times, four times, he charged 

 this enemy, evidently as eager and as angry 

 as himself. Each time something cold and 

 hard and smooth held him back. After the 

 fourth failure, he stood quiet a full minute. 



